About Last Night (About Last Night #1)(73)

Kit: There’s this place I like downtown that does Italian better than they serve in Italy. How does 9 sound? If it won’t make you uncomfortable, I’d like to pick you up and take you home myself. My mother would be so disappointed in me if I didn’t.

With every further text, I was liking this man more and more. It seemed like his mother had raised him to be a gentleman, and that was more than okay with me.

Me: Okay. I’ll send you my address, and 9 is great. Looking forward to meeting you, Kit.

Kit: As am I, Mia. See you then.

I blinked down at my phone in confusion, then up at the wall. “That was it? That’s all it took to get a date?”

Terry burst into laughter, hugging me to his side. “Oh, sweetie, I wish you could see yourself through my eyes. Then you’d know why it was that easy. Now…what are you going to wear?”

I narrowed my eyes at him. His smile immediately made me weary. I knew I was in trouble.




As Terry went to town dressing me up like a doll, I received a message.

Quinn: What are you doing tonight? Want to have another sleepover? I promise not to touch your alarm this time. Scout’s honor.

I stared at the text and my chest squeezed. With a heavy heart, I sat my phone down without responding.




Kit was everything a first date should be. He was sweet and attentive, and his smile was the stuff of daydreams. It turns out he was in advertising, working as a consultant for high-end companies on the strip.

When he arrived at my door, I answered and looked up…and up…and up, still, to his smiling face. He greeted me with a hug then handed me a single yellow rose, but I still couldn’t get past his height. He was enormous! When I asked him if he was related to Andre the Giant, he laughed good-naturedly, explaining that all the men in his family were over six-feet tall, whereas the women tended to be on the short side.

He walked me to the car with a hand to my back, helping me in. As we drove to the restaurant, conversation came surprisingly easy. We spoke about anything and everything. He told me he was a pasta addict. I told him about the time I once fought a four-year-old at a birthday party for the last cake-pop.

Don’t worry. I won.

I noticed the area we were driving through and something inside of me started tightening. The car came to a stop and I blanched, noticing the restaurant we were parked at was only two blocks away from Quinn’s apartment building. Unease swept over me. The chances of seeing Quinn were slim-to-none. I needed to stop worrying and concentrate on my date.

Kit took my hand in his as we walked into Mama Cavella’s for what Kit promised to be the best Italian food I’d ever eaten. I teased and told him he’d pay if it wasn’t. He just grinned and wiggled his brows. I flushed, turning to hide my smile.

Why was this date going so well? Dammit.

I wouldn’t admit it, but I hoped it would be terrible and I would just resign myself to the fact I was not meant to date, leaving me in my bubble of happiness with Quinn, where we never spoke about his work and we just continued being ourselves, having a great friendship with a side of amazing sex.

We placed our orders with the waitress. I ordered the penne carbonara. Kit ordered the lamb and spinach lasagna with a salad. My brain tingled when he asked for no onion on the salad. Was that a hint? Was Kit going to kiss me at the end of the night? Maybe he just didn’t like onion in his salad. I wasn’t sure.

When our meals arrived, Kit watched me take the first bite of my meal with a wide smile. As soon as the pasta hit my tongue, I groaned in bliss. “God, this is good.”

“Not good,”—Kit winked—“the best. They make all the pasta in house.”

We ate, chatting through our meals, telling each other about college and work. It was nice. I haven’t felt comfortable with a single heterosexual male since…well…Quinn, but although Kit was nice, I didn’t feel that something extra. The spark was missing, and I knew where I could find it. My spark was lost to me, hidden in Quinn’s smile.

After our meal, I declined dessert and Kit paid the bill, even though I insisted on paying my share. He wouldn’t have it. He was a gentleman to the core. I was sure he’d find the girl he deserved, but as we approached the car, I quickly realized that girl wouldn’t be me.

We drove back to my apartment in comfortable silence, and when Kit took my hand, I didn’t object. We entered the lobby and walked down the hall to my apartment. When my eyes locked on the person standing outside of my apartment door, his hand raised to knock, my stomach sank.

Quinn turned just in time to see Kit and I approach hand-in-hand. A flurry of emotions passed over his face—confusion, realization, disbelief, and then anger. The way he looked at me scared me. I’d never seen Quinn like that before. It was chilling.

He walked down the hall to meet us, and I quickly dropped Kit’s hand. Quinn talked as he joined us, his words said slowly, carefully. “So, this is where you were tonight? On a date?” He shook his head and cursed. “Seriously, Mia?”

I opened my mouth to respond, but nothing came out.

Kit cut in with, “I’m Kit. And you are?”

Quinn curled his lip at Kit and muttered a grating, “The guy she’s f—” I closed my eyes, praying for him not to finish that sentence. To my surprise, he amended his track of words, glaring at me all the while. “We’re seeing each other.”